


Now and Then and Now Again

by thewightknight



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Flashbacks, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-04-21 04:17:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4814636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewightknight/pseuds/thewightknight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick Fury needs a place to heal, and Councilwoman Hawley knows of a nice little safehouse.  It's only fair, as he did the same for her once upon a time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by [this post on tumblr](http://minim-calibre.tumblr.com/post/125730600569/random-thing-i-firmly-believe-is-true-about-nick):
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>  
> 
> _At some point in their lives, long before she was on the World Security Council (in my head, she was probably MI-6, and no, I’m not going to a crossover place, honestly, I said MI-6, not MI-5), Councilwoman Hawley and Nick Fury had some sort of thing where a: there was a torrid affair; and b: unrelated to that, she owed him a debt, and that he called in that debt when shit went down so Natasha could take her place._
> 
>  
> 
> _Councilwoman Hawley, now a respectable widow of a certain age, most certainly did not spend the next several weeks in a safe house taking care of the most stubborn, ruthless, brilliant man she’s ever known while he healed. They most certainly did not spend the time tartly teasing each other and reminiscing about their days in the field while she called in favors of her own to get some much needed leads and information._
> 
>  
> 
> _Not at all. ___

Fury had been watching the black Lincoln circle the outskirts of the cemetery the whole time he'd been talking to Rogers and Wilson. When they left, it pulled into the park and rolled to a stop on the verge across from where he stood. He tensed, weighed his options, relaxed only marginally when the window rolled down.

"Councilwoman Hawley. How was your vacation?” he asked, grinning. 

"Unplanned," she responded. "Ready for yours?"

"Nope. Too much to do," he drawled.

"It'll never get done if you kill yourself because you're too stubborn to give yourself time to heal," she shot back. 

"Tasha's got my back."

"Who do you think sent me? Natasha is going to be busy in hearings for months, since the world thinks you've kicked the bucket. Whatever free time she has she'll spend feeding intel to Rogers as he runs around with his new boyfriend looking for his old boyfriend."

Nick's eyebrows shot up at that.

"So stop being a stubborn ass and get in." When he didn't move, she sighed. "Do not make me get out of this car to get you, Fury."

"Like you could make me."

"Please. I could have kicked your ass when we met, and that was before you had a broken collarbone, a sprained wrist, three cracked ribs, forty two stitches, six bullet holes, and a re-inflated lung." She smirked. "Told you Natasha sent me."

Tasha must have, she hadn't missed an injury. Damn. “It’s forty three stitches,” he lied. He wasn't going to win this one. With a roll of his eye, he got in the car, batting her hand away as she tried to help him with the seatbelt.

"Damnit, woman, I can strap my own self in!" he growled, then caught his breath when his stitches complained. "This is like Nicaragua all over again."

"Like you could get that lucky twice in your life," she replied.

That startled a laugh out of him, and she smiled as she put the car in gear.

“Where are we headed?” he asked as she pulled out of the cemetery. 

“There is a S.H.I.E.L.D. safehouse I know about from recent personal experience. I have it on the best authority it’s off the grid.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Nicaragua, 1979

A lot of Nazis had relocated to South America after WWII. Turns out Hydra had preferred Central America. It also turned out that some of them had taken pieces of Hydra tech with them. They’d sat on it for decades, making sure the trails had grown cold and then some. Why recently they’d begun setting up labs again, continuing on with Schmidt’s and Zola’s research, no one knew. But they thought they were in the clear, that no one knew of their existence. 

That’s what Director Carter had told him, at least, when she called him in. She’d said this was going to be an easy job. MI6 already had an agent in place in León, posing as a wealthy young widow on an extended vacation. She was there to keep an eye on the tense political situation but her resources would be made available to Fury. The agent, Hawley, had a network of local contacts and a complete set of blueprints for Hydra's research facility. It should have been a simple in-and-out: grab the tech, blow the lab and run. So why in all the hells was he driving through the jungle dodging bullets (and the occasional high explosive device) in a rattletrap Jeep, trying to keep a box of glowing blue tech and a scary crazy Brit from falling back into questionable hands?

Hawley sat backwards in the passenger seat, bracing herself between the dash and the seat. He'd bound her broken ribs and strapped her broken arm strapped to her chest. Even with one eye nearly swollen shut she picked off her pursuers one by one, her injuries not slowing her down in the slightest. She had her machine gun set to short burst and had made every burst count. They'd started with six vehicles in pursuit. She’d taken it down to two and one of those limped along on a flat. Another burst and other front tire blew – the truck careened off the dirt road and plowed into a stand of trees. Before she ducked back down again a burst of shots rang out and she fell back, grunting. “Shit.”

He spared a glance between the road and the mirrors and saw blood blossoming on her shoulder.

She started laughing, hysteria just under the surface. “At least they got my bad arm.” The bullet had, indeed, gotten her high on the left. She'd bleed out fast. Neither of them had a hand free to apply pressure. Even with the controlled fire, Fury was pretty sure they were about to run out of ammo too.

“Any idea what that thing does?” He nodded towards the case wedged in between their seats. 

“No idea, but we might as well find out.” She laid the gun across her lap and flipped open the catches, lifting out the apparatus that was cradled inside. It was vaguely gun-shaped. At least it had a barrel, a handle, and what looked like a trigger. There was a switch on the side, which she thumbed, and the thing started to hum ominously.

“Okay, there’s a turn coming up ahead. I’m going to slue around and you’re going to give them everything you’ve got, okay?” he said. 

“For Queen and Country and all that rot, yes?” Her grimace was probably supposed to be a grin.

“Yeah, something like that,” he said. Director Carter was pretty much the Queen of the agency, after all. “Okay, I’ll give you a count of five.” Fury reached over, steadying her as she shifted, wrapping an arm around her for support.

“Here we go. Five, four, three, …” The hum from the apparatus had gotten louder, and he found himself shouting to be heard over it. “ … two, ONE!” and he cranked the wheel, sluing them around, putting them broadside to the approaching Jeep. Hawley fired, and a blue wave of energy shot out, engulfing the Jeep and a swath of vegetation behind it. The recoil drove Hawley back into him and shot both of them backwards out the driver’s door. They somehow managed not to hit a tree as they flew. Nick landed on his back in a patch of vegetation, Hawley on top of him. She’d managed to hold on to the Hydra tech despite everything, but pain and blood loss had finally taken its toll. He had to carry her back to the Jeep. He bandaged her shoulder as best as he could then continued on down the road. Their extraction point was about halfway between León and Managua. There’d be a dead drop there, including medical supplies. He just had to get them to it.


	2. Chapter 2

Pamela had vague memories of bumping and jostling as she faded in and out of consciousness. She had no idea how much time had passed when she awoke. Her head felt packed in wool, a muzziness she recognized as the after-effects of pain killers. With the sound of waves and seagulls in the background, she took stock of herself, bruises and bandages and a newly-splinted arm, cocooned in blankets. A tarp flapped in the breeze over her head. 

When her eyes decided to focus, she saw Fury wrestling with camouflage netting. She thought about helping, but when she tried to sit up her head swam and she fell back with a groan. Her movement, slight as it was, still drew Fury’s attention.

“I take it evac is delayed?” she asked.

“Yep. Remember that unstable political situation you were monitoring?” When she nodded, he continued. “Well, it’s gotten more unstable. Somozas are finally out, Sandinastas are in and whatever hadn’t already gone to hell already just got there.”

“Lovely. So what’s the word?”

“We keep our noses down and sit tight for a week or two. At I can get least the shrinks to stop bugging me about taking a vacation now.” He grinned, and she chuckled in return. 

“Well, that’s the good news, I guess. The bad news is that I get to let you set my arm and dig the bullet out, right?” she joked.

“Something like that, yeah,” he replied. 

“Well, let’s get it over with then, shall we?” He didn’t argue with her, thank goodness. Instead, he helped her sit up, propped her up with another bedroll and a couple of small crates (including the case with their purloined Hydra tech, she noticed), and offered her a belt to bite down on. She didn’t pass out this time, but she came close. He gave her a few minutes to recover, then started in on her shoulder. At least the endorphins made the bullet removal not as unpleasant as it could have been. He made neat stitches, she noticed. No more off-the shoulder dresses for her anymore, though. She shook her head when he held up a syringe and a glass vial of clear liquid, and he didn’t argue with her again. She could get to like this American, she thought.

Dinner was some reconstituted awfulness that came out of a foil pouch. It was a step above canned field rations, though. A small step, but a step nevertheless.

“A week or two?” she asked as they watched the sun set over the water.

“We’ll check in a week. They said they might be able to extract us then, but they might give it two to be safe.”

“Here’s to a beach vacation, then.” She raised an imaginary glass to the sunset.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Fury was quiet as she drove. He might have even dozed off for a few minutes here and there, which let her know just how exhausted, how hurting he must be. Natasha had left the quinjet in an abandoned warehouse about an hour and a half away. That got the first reaction out of him, eyebrows raised above his sunglasses as she pressed a fob on her keychain and the ramp dropped. She drove the car in, securing it as he eased his way out of the passenger seat. 

“You rated for this thing?” he asked, and she snorted. 

He wouldn’t help her strap him in here, either. Stubborn man. He stayed alert as they flew, but still remained silent. 

Natasha had stashed Hawley was a S.H.I.E.L.D. ancillary base in the middle of nowhere. It wasn’t big enough to rate a Koenig but it had a small hanger and all the amenities, including a full medical clinic. The air still smelled stale, despite its recent use. 

"Look. We even get a sunset," she joked, as the projection on the wall cycled through to an idyllic beach scene.

"Just like old times."

"We might be here longer than a couple of weeks.

The first time she tried to drag him into the clinic to change his dressings he tried to be stubborn about it. And the second, and the third. Bloody stubborn mule of a man, she was half tempted to let him rot in his bandages, but she never backed down from a fight. And besides, she owed him, whether he liked it or not. The scar she saw on her shoulder in the mirror every morning reminded her of that.

She found the makings for margaritas in the small kitchen, including several bottles of a tequila respectable enough to mix but not too good to make it a blasphemy. 

"Pretty sure those aren't standard rations there," Fury said, leaning against the doorway, summoned by the sound of the blender.

"They didn't come out of a foil pouch, no."

Fury fiddled with the programming on the projection screen and they spent an afternoon reliving the highlights of the last two decades to the sight of waving palms and the sound of rushing surf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MREs were invented in 1978, but didn’t become standard issue until 1986. I think SHIELD would have been on the cusp of “field testing” these, so to speak.

**Author's Note:**

> Some photo references:  
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>    
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> 
> Feel free to come say hi over on [tumblr](http://thewightknight.tumblr.com/).


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